


Ovum

by prairiecrow



Series: Ovum [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Eggs, Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy Cravings, Unplanned Pregnancy, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A response to the DS9 Comment Ficathon prompt: "The thing about Cardassian biology is that like lizards, they have retractable penises. And when a Cardassian's penis retracts, he lays eggs from that place... Garak lays Bashir's eggbabies."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-"The Wire".

Elim Garak first knew he was in trouble one otherwise unremarkable morning in his shop, when he found himself handling a bolt of bronze Kr'rausian velvet -- fondling it, really, running his fingers over the warm absorbent fabric with a long lingering stroke -- and reflecting that it would make the perfect lining for a bowl-sized concave space, its softness wonderfully suited to cradling small fragile precious objects. Small, fragile, precious, ovoid objects, slightly moist and glistening, two to four of them in all, carefully watched and kept at precisely the right temperature and humidity. 

 _His_  ovoid objects, and in the wave of horrified suspicion that followed he consciously tried to evert his penis from its sheath and utterly failed.

In one stroke, the quite unremarkable morning had become the most noteworthy day of his entire life thus far. In over five Terran decades of adult existence, some of it spent in murder and destruction and terrific personal danger, he couldn't recall feeling quite this combination of emotions: appalled and disbelieving, amazed and undeniably thrilled. It shouldn't have been possible -- but then again, what did he really know about Cardassian/Terran genetic compatibility? And it wasn't like he'd ever told Julian Bashir anything on the subject, although he knew the Human was relentlessly curious about all the biological details that his reptilian lover held in such careful secrecy. 

Well, it appeared that Julian was about to get a crash course in male Cardassian reproductive anatomy after all, with the first lesson being this: The orifice that the male Cardassian penis emerged from during sexual arousal (and which Julian had been employing as a vaginal surrogate) also held two ovum-bearing organs which, in response to certain hormonal changes brought about by sexual activity with a sufficiently stimulating partner, were capable of producing fertile eggs.

No doubt the CMO of Deep Space Nine would be delighted at this opportunity to study the phenomenon first-hand, no matter what the rest of his emotional responses might be. And if Garak had to have someone involved who knew next to nothing about Cardassian physiology, he had to admit that he couldn't have asked for a better attending physician.


	2. Chapter 2

Julian Bashir felt the first twinge of what turned out to be fully justified apprehension when the comm system in the Infirmary emitted a melodious warble followed by the last voice he'd ever expected to hear thus conveyed:  _"Garak to Bashir."_

He looked up at once from the spectral analysis he was running on a new type of fungus unwittingly brought through the wormhole in the cargo bay of a Mesotian freighter. "Yes, Garak?" Already his heart rate had taken a slight leap, because for Garak to place a call to DS9's medical facility, a place he normally avoided like the plague even though he was currently sexually involved with the physician in charge of it, must mean that the Cardassian spy had run into something that he couldn't handle on his own. Visions of a broken leg, an in-progress heart attack, or maybe even the re-activation of that damned implant flashed through Julian's mind. He was already rising from his seat when Garak's reply came — immediately, which was a good sign — but as usual the tailor was deliberately evasive.

 _"I need to see you in my shop at once, Doctor."_  A tiny pause. If Julian hadn't become sensitized to the slightest nuances of Garak's speech patterns over the past two years he would have missed it completely.  _"I'd advise you to bring a tricorder."_

Another increase in heart rate. Garak didn't sound pained or stressed, but… there was something in his voice, something that Julian recognized due to further sensitization over nearly four months of sharing a bed with the man. It was the tone Garak used when his Human lover was getting too close to a subject he didn't want to discuss, not directly anyway. At least he hadn't asked for a dermal regenerator or a site-to-site transport, which made catastrophic physical trauma unlikely. 

"I'll be there right away." It would do no good to press for details over the general comm system. If he was lucky, Garak would provide the reasons for his unusual request once they were face to face without too much prompting on Julian's part. If not…

…if not, well, he'd known what Garak was for quite some time now, and he'd chosen to let himself get wrapped up with him anyway. A decision he didn't regret for a second, he reflected as he collected the requested tricorder and headed for Garak's Clothiers: Garak was many things, including an accomplished tailor and a cunning spy and a former torturer and a silver-tongued liar, but he was also a man whose passion for Julian seemed undeniable. The fact that he could keep it so completely hidden behind genial smiles and small talk when they were in public only made it more compelling when it broke cover in private; Julian had enjoyed his share of sexual partners, but never one who touched him with the dark incandescence that dwelt in Garak's skilled mouth and nimble grey hands, simultaneously rooting him in his own flesh and taking him ever higher with an intensity that was occasionally frightening in a delirious oh-god-don't-stop sort of way. 

And he couldn't remember anything in his past that quite equalled the thrill of the moment when Garak, in a barely audible reptilian hiss, had first invited him to penetrate his genital slit, an act of trust whose significance had not been lost of Julian, even though he was certain he was missing most of the subtle cultural nuances of both the offering and the taking. 

But perhaps the honor he felt in being permitted such an intimacy had been communicated sufficiently, because he'd been allowed to keep doing it — and he had come to adore the unique sensations afforded by the cavity that Garak's penis emerged from, an orifice ridged and tight and capable of making Garak actually  _whimper_  when Julian hit just the right angle and pace, capable of making those cold blue eyes burn and that stocky body tremble uncontrollably even before the long pulses of alien release. Lying in the circle of those powerful arms afterwards, breath mingling with breath as they returned from the sphere of shared ecstasy together, Julian sometimes felt an almost overwhelming urge to ask Garak to explain it to him, to tell him the simple truth just once… but nothing with Garak was ever either plain or simple, and although he'd set out to understand exactly what this all meant to the Cardassian mind on several occasions he'd always ended up back where he'd started: with his head on Garak's shoulder, or Garak's ridged temple pressed against the angle of his slim brown throat, feeling the faint smile that curved those enigmatic grey lips and knowing that he was no closer to the mystery that slept beside him in the darkness. He'd long since come to the conclusion that this frustration was part of the excitement between them, as perverse as that might seem to any of the people he was so careful to conceal his relationship status from. 

For that reason he was careful to adopt just the right attitude when he approached Garak's shop with tricorder in hand: upright posture, determined stride, neither too fast nor too slow, the picture of impersonal Starfleet efficiency. When the doors opened for him he entered without pausing, only stopping a meter or so into the retail space when he realized that the man he was looking for was nowhere to be seen.

"Garak?"

"Back here, Doctor." Garak's voice floated lightly out of the storeroom at the rear of the shop.

Julian exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and followed the prompt, to find Garak standing on the third riser of a step stool against the far wall, deftly pulling a bolt of pale blue silk from one of the upper shelves. With a single glance as Garak withdrew the roll of fabric he determined that the older Cardassian was standing and moving freely, with no sign of muscular pain or joint stiffness.

"Hold this, would you?" Without looking behind him Garak held out the bolt, his gaze already seeking something else on the next shelf up. Julian quickly set aside his tricorder on the central worktable and came to do as bidden, noting as he did so that the silk had a gorgeous watered pattern of the type once called "tabby": in four months as Garak's lover he'd picked up a surprising amount of trivial knowledge concerning matters related to tailoring. He stepped back to a distance that would allow Garak, now encumbered with another two rolls in complementary colors to the blue, to step down and turn without risking collision. "Ah, thank you, my dear. You can set it over there on the table."

"Always glad to be of use," Julian said amiably, but he was not fooled by Garak's genial manner: there was something under the smooth glide of that voice, something that felt like razors sheathed in velvet. A warning? Perhaps, but he was in no mood to play word games for the next five minutes in order to hear what Garak had called him here for. Instead he picked up the tricorder again and extracted the point scanner from its port, then immediately began an examination of the tailor starting at his right temple.

He expected a protest, perhaps even an outraged verbal explosion: Garak guarded his medical secrets as jealously as any other he possessed. Instead Garak set down the bolts he was carrying and began to unfold one of them as calmly as if Julian wasn't even there, not even pausing as he remarked: "It's the abdominal cavity you'll want to pay attention to."

Frowning (but certainly not foolish enough to think that his expression would make any difference or render Garak more inclined to explain just what the hell he was playing at), Julian shifted his attention to the area in question. He had to scan from the side because Garak was still oriented toward the table, serenely measuring fabric for cutting. He was just picking up the laser cutter when Julian's preliminary sweep reached his pelvic region — and detected something that for a moment refused to register. Then the details of the scan resolved themselves in his mind — two pockets on the right side of Garak's pelvic orifice, each cradling chalazae and albumin and a spherical fluid body that could only be a yolk — and he almost dropped both tricorder and scanner in the flash of cold shock that followed.


	3. Chapter 3

Garak didn't appear to notice. Smiling faintly, he started cutting lengths of silk. And after a span of three or four seconds Julian's medical reflexes kicked in and he resumed scanning, this time focusing his attention on the Cardassian's lower belly.

"I'm detecting four macrolecithal eggs, each four point seven centimetres in diameter, arranged around your pelvic orifice, two on each side. Each pair is located inside a… I suppose they're uterine bodies?" Of course Garak didn't supply an answer to that question, so Julian continued: "The yolks and vitelline membranes appear to be fully formed, with the chalazae and albumins in progress. I'm also seeing high concentrations of calcite in the surrounding solution, which suggests that shell formation will begin as soon as the major egg structures are in place." 

"Well," Garak remarked, "that explains my unusual craving for Gatharian hiritha milk." 

Julian nodded. "Hiritha milk is often prescribed during the early stages of —" The enormity of the thought momentarily stopped him dead in his tracks. Again. He slotted the scanner back into the tricorder but the motion was entirely automatic: his mind was fully occupied with the facts of the situation in front of him. "Garak…. you're…"

"Yes, Doctor, I am." A smooth sweep of one grey hand created another precise measure of blue fabric. Julian stared, waiting for him to say more, and when all Garak did was turn the bolt to gain access to more silk he reached out impulsively and caught hold of the older man's wrist. The gaze Garak turned on him was mild but Julian didn't miss the flash of annoyance there.

"But… how? I mean…" His mind was racing now, gathering every fact he possessed about the physiology of his lover's secretive species and weaving them into a coherent picture. "Cardassian women aren't oviparous."

The smile became a smirk. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a woman."

"I…" He had to look away, momentarily sickened by the precipitous change in perspective: not by Garak, or what his body was doing, in fact this new paradigm was positively thrilling from a medical point of view, but… he hadn't known how deep the mystery went, and no matter what the personal implications he couldn't afford the luxury of shock. He brought his eyes back to Garak's face, which was still displaying a thin sliver of teeth very sharp and white, and said: "Nevertheless, you're pregnant. By me?" Garak just looked at him, and he blundered on: "I mean — it  _is_ … nobody else has…?"

"Made use of my  _ossek_  in quite the way you have?" Garak offered a disarming blink of blue eyes almost fierce in their intensity. "No, my dear, not recently."

Julian felt a blush appear high on his sharp cheekbones. He tried to sound clinical. "I'm sorry, but it's a necessary question. Of course the genetic tests will confirm — oh,  _damn_ it!" Some days it honestly wasn't worth opening his mouth.

Garak was standing perfectly still, studying him with that incisive gaze that seemed to probe more deeply than any tricorder scan. After a couple of seconds of watching Julian's face turn an ever-deeper shade of shamed red he sighed and put aside the laser cutter. "If it's any consolation, this is just as much a surprise to me as it is to you."

"It is?" He was assiduously seeking any telltale of falsehood, but — well, this was Garak, who could walk on virgin snow without leaving a single footprint behind, metaphorically speaking. 

"It is." He'd looked down to place the cutter on the table, but now he turned his entire body to meet Julian's gaze squarely. Julian left his hand where it was, laid lightly but firmly on the back of Garak's hand. " _S'tak p'rasstal_  is highly uncommon nowadays: Cardassian society takes a rather dim view of same-sex entanglements between men, and it's always been a rare occurrence even during those historical periods when males were in the habit of making use of each other as a matter of course." His gaze flickered to the left, only for a microsecond, and his broad shoulders twitched fractionally inside his thick tunic, but Julian caught it and read it as an indicator of profound discomfort. "It's also viewed as highly primitive — disgustingly so, in fact, a holdover from our animal forebears. If word of this gets back to Cardassia Prime my already tarnished reputation will take another precipitous nosedive, I'm afraid."

Julian inclined his head a little closer and widened his hazel eyes, tacitly evoking trust. "Is that the truth?" he asked quietly.

"Would you believe me even if I told you 'yes'?"

Now it was Julian's turn to sigh and glance briefly away. "I don't have much choice. I've never heard of  _s'tak p'rasstal_  — it certainly wasn't in the files Enabran Tain provided, and they're my main source of information concerning Cardassian physiology. And… well, the fact is, you're carrying four eggs that may or may not be fertile. I'll have to run further tests —"

"No." Garak's voice had also grown soft but the gleam in his eyes was as hard as diamond-light. "No tests."

"Not in the Infirmary," Julian agreed, still speaking gently but now infusing his voice with an undercurrent of steel. "In my quarters, tonight. Come by at 1930." Then, when Garak didn't respond, he set aside the tricorder to take both of the Cardassian's hands in his and hold them tightly. " _I_  need to know. I  _deserve_  to know. And we have a lot to talk about, in private, where we won't be disturbed by a customer coming in."

Something in the iron mask of Garak's expression broke and opened, revealing sympathy and sorrow as subtle as the trace of a track left on ice. "Very well," he agreed with obvious reluctance. "But I warn you, you may not like the answers you find."

"I don't have much choice about that, either." He rubbed his thumbs over the cool twilight skin, feeling the tension that lurked in bone and tendon. "Do you need anything right now? I could have the Chief raise the temperature here in the shop —"

"Thank you, no," Garak responded politely. "That would only be likely to provoke questions, wouldn't it?"

Julian had to smile in spite of the gravity of the situation. How typically Garak! "Maybe some hiritha milk, then?"

"I've drunk enough of that already to float a Keldon class battleship." Garak's fingers finally offered answering pressure, briefly but warmly. "At the moment I have need of nothing, except time to finish this silk coat. The Tellarite who ordered it will be very displeased if it's not ready before his ship departs in five hours."

He let go of Julian's hands and started to step back, but Julian was, for once, too quick for him. He slid his left arm around Garak's waist and stepped right up against that stocky body, curved his right hand around the fine scales that adorned the line of Garak's jaw, and tilted the black-haired head back enough to press a kiss to the grey lips whose softness and strength never ceased to amaze him. For a second he felt Garak's entire body tense — this was an intimacy that Julian had never dared to offer him in his shop, where anyone could walk in on them — and he didn't go so far as to pull the younger Human close, but after a heartbeat he angled his head and responded to the caress with that barely veiled reptilian heat that always quickened Julian's pulse.

"It's going to be all right," Julian whispered when he finally drew back: "I promise." Without waiting for a response he released the tailor and picked up his tricorder and turned to leave, already wondering how he'd make that vow come true. 

Garak made no attempt to stop him. He strode back onto the Promenade with shoulders squared and face impassive, hoping to hell that there were no empaths in the vicinity to pick up on the emotions he must be broadcasting at the top of his heart and mind:

 _I'm going to be a father…_


	4. Chapter 4

As a rule, Garak tried to strike a balance between compliance and deflection where Julian was concerned: a blend of giving the charming young man enough of what he wanted to please and enthral him while never revealing anything of deeper significance… in so many words. He'd actually offered Julian enough highly coded tokens to keep him guessing for months. It was part of what ensured the success of this covert relationship they were carrying out under the noses of Starfleet and the Bajoran military (although Garak suspected that Quark had guessed at least the general outline of things, but of course the Ferengi was too canny to risk his own life by revealing as much).

Today, like many things, that was about to change — and Garak had always been suspicious of change that he could not control to his own ends. But he was also a master of rolling with the punches, so this evening, given the choice between compliance and defiance, he chose to comply with Julian's wishes for reasons of his own.

At precisely 19:29:30 Garak's brisk walk brought him to the door of Julian's quarters, where he paused for the span of a slow indrawn breath, staring at the closed portal and considering what might lie beyond it. The Human had seemed remarkably calm during their interlude in his shop this afternoon — but the key word there was 'seemed', and with his extensive training in the infliction of psychological trauma Garak knew well just how much of a powerful reaction could be concealed by an initial bout of shock. And while Julian might be impulsive and occasionally oblivious to his effect on those around him, the young man was not unintelligent. Surely the implications of this situation must have begun to make themselves evident by now.

Tonight was ostensibly about ensuring Garak's good health, but it might well turn into an episode of stabilizing the good Doctor instead. Garak soundlessly exhaled the deep breath he'd taken and pressed the door chime, and was not surprised when swift footsteps came at once and the door opened to reveal Julian, his expression hovering between a welcoming smile and tight professionalism. 

"I hope I'm not too early," Garak said pleasantly, analyzing every detail of his posture.

"Of course not." In spite of the underlying tension there was genuine warmth in his tone, and he stepped aside to permit Garak to enter, an invitation which Garak accepted.  _Although we're not likely to end up falling into bed after a long evening's discussion at this point, are we?_  he thought with a trace of regret, permitting himself no deeper reaction than that. A glance around the living room revealed something new: a small cart holding a medical scanning unit standing between the couch and the viewport. Julian gestured toward the end of the couch closest to it. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'll get you something to drink."

"That's most kind." Yes, the dynamic had definitely changed, the terrain between them rockier than ever before and unmapped all over again. With a sigh too soft for the Human to hear Garak moved to sit down, reflecting that it was a pity he had to involve the Doctor in this at all. Not terribly hopefully he remarked: "I trust bringing this scanner to your quarters didn't provoke too many questions?"

"I'm the station's CMO. Any questions would come directly to me, so that's one problem we don't have to worry about." He'd crossed to the replicator and now spoke to it: "One Tarkalean tea and four hundred millilitres of chilled Gatharian hiritha milk, Bashir formulation A-1." A dark mug and a large blue-tinted glass materialized in a shimmer of swirling energy, and Julian picked up both to bring them to the couch, where Garak had settled on the end furthest from the scanner. 

Garak didn't bother to conceal his wince. "Doctor, I've already told you that I've drunk enough of that to —"

"And you'll be drinking a lot more of it," Julian said firmly. "It's full of calcium and a host of other necessary minerals and vitamins, plus some supplements I've taken the liberty of adding."

"Which I'm sure improves its taste no end," Garak deadpanned, but he accepted the glass and took a sip while Julian sat down beside him. "I don't believe it. You've actually managed to make it  _less_  appetizing."

"Yet you still want to drink it, don't you?"

"Unfortunately, yes." 

"Which is completely typical of pregnancy-related food cravings." Usually when Julian sat beside Garak in private he was gracefully relaxed, lounging or leaning near, the full force of his sensuality and desire shining in his dark eyes; now he was all awkward angles, obviously not even sure how close he should be or whether or not he should be fully turned to face him. Garak, rather mean-spiritedly (and surely he was entitled after being ordered to drink almost half a litre of hiritha milk), decided to offer him no help whatsoever. After a moment he settled for sitting parallel to the Cardassian and lightly clasping his hands between his thighs. "Have you, ah, been experiencing any other symptoms?"

"None worth mentioning." Another sip of milk, and this time he let Julian see that he was being keenly watched. "And what about you, Doctor?"

For a moment Julian looked like he was going to deny the uneasiness that he was telegraphing with every movement and every breath; then he sighed and slumped against the back of the couch. "I will admit, I had to go into the back of the Infirmary and sit down and put my head between my knees — twice — when the reality of it hit me, but I'll survive." He sat up straight again and unclasped his hands and turned his upper body toward Garak, and the gaze he levelled at his guest now was equally keen, and utterly devoid of conflicted emotions. Here lay the physician's certainty that had so vexed Garak during the incident with his implant. "It's not me I'm worried about. It's you, especially since you practically asked for my help outright."

Garak raised his eyeridges slightly. "I should think that would provoke the opposite reaction."

"When the implant malfunctioned you did everything in your power to prevent my finding out about it. And you were  _dying_  at the time. Which leads me to believe that this situation must be exponentially worse in some fashion."

"We weren't sexually intimate with each other when the implant malfunctioned."  _Although that ended up being one outcome, perhaps the most important one._  He thought of the eggs nestled low in his belly and mentally added:  _Definitely the most important one, as it turns out._

"Does that really make a difference?"

Garak simply gazed at him for a couple of seconds, hopefully communicating what a foolish question he'd just asked. Julian gazed back, undaunted and demanding an answer. At last Garak sighed again, this time audibly. _I must be growing as soft as these eggs._  "Of course it makes a difference. You're  _sh'hiral_  to me now, and that… entitles you to certain other, less tangible intimacies."

"You've called me that once or twice when we've made love, but never told me what it means."

"It's an archaic term, stemming from the days when  _s'tak p'rasstal_  was a lot more common than it is now." He endured another mouthful of hiritha milk. "Don't expect me to explain any further. I've said enough already."

Now Julian looked exasperated, and unaccountably adorable. "Garak, you're carrying my children. I'd say I'm entitled to a lot of things, including a full explanation of exactly what I mean to you."

"You're assuming that I intend to carry them to term." He let the silence that followed spin out for several seconds, but the stunned expression on Julian's face was not to be borne, so instead he put aside his milk and turned to face the darling boy, taking his lover's warm brown hands firmly in both his own. "It's a logical course of action to consider, my dear," he said, pitching his tone between gentleness and practicality. "Both our lives would be immeasurably better if I weren't —"

"But you are," Julian interrupted, fire flashing in his eyes. He returned the pressure of Garak's fingers and amplified it, gripping tightly. "And it's arguable that anything will be made better if you decide to terminate."

"For one thing, my government's already abysmal impression of me wouldn't be made even worse," Garak pointed out. "For another, your superiors and colleagues would never have to know that you and I have been doing many, many things we shouldn't have." For the moment he elected to avoid discussing the larger and much more obvious consequence of the situation -- children -- which was so obvious as to be a given and merited a whole separate conversation; instead he pretended to think for a moment, then smiled thinly. "Of course, I could always proceed as if you weren't the sire of the eggs at all. Let's see… there was a Rogosian trader who came through the station about six weeks ago, which is the right time frame, and he's unlikely to ever come back. They're fairly close to Humans in general appearance. We could easily —"

Julian's caramel skin had taken on a pale undercast, as if his blood were being rerouted to his core. "God, no!" he said in evident horror. "You don't — you  _can't_  expect me to lie about something like that!"

"Even if not lying about it might end your career?"

"Even then." But now the facade of professionalism was beginning to crack, revealing the incipient panic simmering beneath. His grip on Garak's hands tightened even more and he looked down at them, shaking his head slightly, his finely drawn eyebrows furrowing. "I just — I wish you'd told me this might be a possibility. I don't understand how it could have happened in the first place, when I've been taking regular contraceptive injections for the past seven and a half years."

He started rubbing the back of Julian's hands with his thumbs, as Julian had rubbed his in the shop, and hoped that it provided at least the same measure of comfort. "Even those aren't one hundred percent effective, are they?"

"No, but the failure rate is phenomenally low." He glanced over his shoulder toward the medical equipment on its cart. "One of the things I'll be checking tonight is my sperm count, motility and viability. Maybe I got a bad batch of Contratol, and if that's the case I'll have to notify everybody else who received injections from that lot."

Going for broke, Garak infused his voice with a precisely balanced combination of politeness, cheerfulness and flirtatiousness. "If I can be of  _any_  assistance in obtaining a sample…" The response would tell him a great deal about how alive — or dead — their sexual relationship was in Julian's mind, but he certainly did not allow any trace of that… yes,  _anxiety_  was regrettably the right term… to reach the surface. He kept his gaze mild and undemanding even when Julian looked at him sharply, some of the color coming back into his dusky cheeks.

"Do you still want to be?" he asked bluntly. "I know that in some cultures, sexual activity is considered improper when a woman — I mean — well, you  _know_  what I mean."

"I do." It was good to discover that Julian could still make him smile with as close to unadulterated pleasure as a man in his position could come. "However, as I pointed out earlier, I'm not a woman." He released Julian's right hand and reached up to curve his hand around the line of that smooth jaw, unadorned with scales yet oh, so simply and exquisitely lovely. Even across a crowded Promenade this face had filled him with delight the first time he'd seen it; he remembered his amazement at finding something so beautiful in such a dismal place, and resolving to get as close to its owner as possible. "But things _will_ necessarily change between us in a purely physical sense, I'm afraid."

Julian nodded, then turned his head a little to press his cheek into Garak's hand, his eyes never wavering in their intent gaze. "I noticed that the muscles responsible for everting your penis seem to be constricted. Never having scanned your pelvic cavity in detail before, I can't tell whether or not that's normal."

"Not even when I was deeply asleep and wouldn't have known?"

A rueful little smile quirked one corner of his mouth, rendering him painfully loveable. "Is it?"

"Completely, during  _s'tak p'rasstal_." Or so the few anecdotal accounts Garak had skimmed three or so decades past suggested, and he knew of no other reported condition in which the penis could not be everted at will — or at least, none that didn't involve other very noticeable symptoms.

"So, that's two signs of pregnancy you've been experiencing. Are there any others?"

Garak permitted himself a wry smile. "Persistence has always been one of your virtues, my dear."

"Guilty as charged. Well?" He picked up the quarter-finished glass of milk from the coffee table and offered it again, and after a moment Garak took it, retaining his hold of Julian's left hand. He'd been considering how much to reveal, and when, for several hours now, and come to an extremely reluctant conclusion:  _s'tak p'rasstal_  was an unknown quantity, and given how much medical danger it might entail…

"The nesting instinct," he said unwillingly, "which first appeared this morning while I was handling a bolt of exceptionally soft velvet. I found myself wanting to create a  _norestakli_ , a warm place to keep the eggs — which as I'm sure you can imagine is never a good sign in a Cardassian male."

"Is every male capable of producing eggs?" 

Garak shrugged noncommittally. "Being a tailor rather than a physician, I really wouldn't know."

"All right. Did you know that  _you're_  capable of producing eggs?"

"Certainly not," Garak sniffed — and that much, at least, was half true. 

"Then how could this happen?" Julian asked again, as much to the universe as to the oviparous man sitting in front of him. "Unless you've never had a detailed medical exam in your entire life, I can't believe that nobody's detected —"

"The rudimentary ovaries were first noticed when I was very young."

"How old were you?"

"Is that relevant?"

"It might be." He closed his eyes, then drew a swift little breath and shifted the grip of his hand, interlacing their fingers in what, from a Cardassian perspective, was a much more intimate gesture. When his eyes opened again there was both sorrow and determination in their hazel depths. "Garak, either as your doctor or as your mate, you have got to tell me these things. I promise I won't use them against you. I only want to help… and I don't want you to go through this alone."

 _And what if I wanted to go through it alone?_  Garak wondered… but the truth of it, as much as he hated to admit such a thing, was that he reciprocated the desire for connection. Call it a consequence of the new hormones surging through his body, perhaps. "I was eight years old. They were monitored into my early adulthood, but they've never shown any sign of producing viable eggs."

"So why now? Does it have to do with your age, maybe some hormonal change that occurs in males of… how old  _are_  you, anyway?"

"I suppose that's something you absolutely need to know."

"It would probably help. And I'm saying that as the doctor who'll be monitoring your pregnancy."

"For one thing,  _Doctor_ ," and Garak was unable to keep an irritable snap out of his voice, "it's not referred to as a pregnancy. In polite society it's not referred to at all, but if you must call it something, call it 'kindling'."

Julian frowned, testing the word: "Kindling?"

"That's a rough translation of an extremely archaic term, which has more syllables than are strictly convenient."

"And you had no idea this was going to —"

"No." Suddenly Garak felt weary, and unaccountably depressed. He took a couple of swallows of milk to cover it. "The development of ovaries in a male is extremely rare; the production of viable eggs, probably as rare as the failure rate of your Contratol. And I've never heard of it happening in someone as… venerable as I am."

One dark eyebrow rose. "You're not  _that_  old."

"How would you know?"

"You don't fuck like an eighty year old, for one thing," Julian said bluntly, then tempered it with a small smile. "For another, the texturing of your forehead scutes isn't as pronounced as what I've seen on Cardassians I know are of retirement age, like Enabran Tain. Conclusion: you're somewhere in middle age, a little overweight —"

"Oh,  _thank_  you!"

"— but still hale and healthy." He leaned in and gave Garak a kiss, quick, but soft and warm and full of affection. Garak couldn't help but feel the stiffness of his offended spine melt a little at the caress, then yield even more when Julian smiled at him through half-lowered dark lashes. "And, I hope, reasonable enough to see that I'll need all the information I can gather if I'm going to see you through your kindling properly." He laid his free hand on Garak's lower belly, the touch as warm as the kiss had been. "Just a few questions — for now — and then we'll do a more detailed analysis of what's going on down here. From there we can —"

Judging that bluntness for bluntness was a fair trade, Garak interrupted him. "If I  _were_  to decide to terminate, would you refuse me the procedure?"

[TO BE CONTINUED…]


	5. Chapter 5

Gazing into Garak's stern and implacable face, Julian knew that only the truth would be acceptable and the slightest prevarication would never be forgiven. He sighed and shook his head. "No, of course not, and I wouldn't pass it off to one of my colleagues either. I doubt you'd trust anyone but me to perform an operation on you."

"And you'd be correct." Those blue eyes, which normally looked at Julian with a certain tenderness, were practically steely now. He hadn't looked this grim since his implant had malfunctioned and he'd told Julian a probably untrue story about sending over a hundred people to their deaths.

He shifted his right hand on the slight convex curve of Garak's belly, cradling it through the thick brocade fabric of his tunic, and kept his own tone of voice firm but reasonable. "But you see, I'd be facing a rather large problem: my lack of knowledge concerning Cardassian physiology. I'm sure I could remove the egg bodies without causing too much internal damage, but who knows what their sudden absence would do to your body chemistry? If nothing else, your hormonal levels would likely spike or crash dramatically, and I'd have no idea how to treat the excess or the lack."

The tiniest smile cracked his facade, although it didn't reach his eyes. "You're a clever man. I'm sure you'd figure something out."

"I'm sure I would, but would it be the  _right_  thing? I don't particularly feel like playing with your life."

"Considering that a child or children would radically change my life anyway, I'd say that's a rather irrelevant concern, wouldn't you?"

"As a matter of fact, no." He applied a little more pressure and felt the Cardassian's abdominal muscles twitch irritably, then settle.  _My babies, inside him._  The thought filled him with both tenderness and ferocity, but he only allowed the former to infuse his next words. "Garak, it's ultimately your decision. Your body is your own, and so is your life. I don't —" A nanosecond's hesitation, and the fierce emotion came through. "I mean, my God, they're  _mine_  and of course I feel rather protective of them, and I think it would be a terrible waste to terminate them out of hand, but whatever you decide to do, you know I'll support you."

Garak gazed into his eyes for a long moment. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm glad you see things that way."

Julian nodded, then permitted himself a small shaky laugh. "It's all so damned sudden. I'd say I'm doing pretty well for someone who just found out he's sired  _four_  children."

"You are, my love." The endearment was a rare one and made Julian's heart perform an absurd little flip in his chest, but he judged that the best tactic was to pass over it without further comment. "And if it's any consolation, four children is a highly unlikely outcome."

"Oh?" He was sure his medical ears visibly pricked up.

Garak nodded. "Most historical accounts of  _s'tak p'rasstal_  agree that the number of eggs laid doesn't guarantee that all those eggs will successfully gestate. In fact, usually only one survives to proceed to the next… oh dear, I can hardly say it."

"Say what?" He began to rub Garak's lower belly in slow circles, letting compassion fill both his tone and his gaze. He was functioning as a physician here, yes… but his impregnated lover needed comfort, and that was no less vital a requirement under the circumstances.

Garak looked away briefly. "The next stage," he said with difficulty, "is the implantation of the egg back inside the stomach."

Julian kept his tone of voice gentle but professional. "Through your  _ossek_ , you mean?"

"Unfortunately not." Garak still wasn't looking at him. Assuming he was telling the truth, so much honesty in so short a space of time must be taxing him sorely. "The twinned ridges down the centre of my abdomen will develop a rift between them, opening —" He couldn't suppress a slight shudder. "Opening into a cavity large enough to hold the egg as it continues to grow."

"The egg will change its size?" Julian let his hand come to rest on the left side of Garak's belly. "That's not — well, let's just say it's not usual."

"Argue with the historical record, Doctor, not with me." He glanced at his Human lover briefly, betraying both irritation and something harder to define but clearly distressed before looking away again. "Once an egg exits the body it slowly increases in size until it's ready for re-implantation. And once back inside the body of its prime sire, it continues to grow until the shell splits open and —" He took another sip of milk, his hand trembling very slightly. Julian prepared himself to take the glass away if it got much worse.

"And the baby emerges?"

"Ideally, yes. In some cases the ridges are reluctant to separate again."

"That sounds like a serious complication."

"It is. Neither prime sire nor child is likely to survive it."

"Maybe not in the past," Julian said decisively, "but with modern medicine I'm sure we can remedy the situation."

"Or the egg might die inside me, leading to sepsis." Looking a little sick, he quickly set aside the glass and averted his eyes from it.

"Again, a treatable condition."

"Even with your imperfect knowledge of Cardassian physiology?" Nauseated or not, he hadn't lost his acerbity.

"Some techniques transfer very well across different species."

"This, of course, is assuming that even one egg survives being laid, much less incubated."

"Assuming that, yes." He was down from four potential offspring to one, which was doing wonders for his peace of mind. The prospect of being responsible for multiple hybrid infants, with four potential sets of medical issues, had been seriously daunting even for a physician of his calibre — especially when he would have been partially responsible for their day-to-day care as well as monitoring their health.

Garak smiled tightly. "So we may have nothing to worry about at all. Comforting, isn't it?"

"Only if you don't want any of them to be viable."

At last Garak's gaze returned to his face. The Cardassian seemed surprised. "Of course I don't!" he exclaimed. "Do you think I've been — oh, my dear!" Julian, who had glanced away in perverse disappointment that seized his heart with a painful pang, felt the spy's cool grey hand on his cheek again, guiding him back to return that piercing blue gaze. "Surely  _you_  don't want children? Not at this stage in your life?"

"No," Julian whispered, knowing he shouldn't reveal too much and judging it far too late for such doubts, "but with you… I've always wanted to be closer to you."

Garak withdrew the hand on his cheek and rested it on his own knee. "A child would be a singularly poor way to accomplish that."

After a moment Julian nodded. He knew it was true, but that wasn't his only reason. "And you're a remarkable man, Elim Garak. A son or daughter of yours would be a wonder, and I'd be honored to have played a part in bringing them into the world."

"A world where our two peoples are at war," Garak pointed out, "and a hybrid would face discrimination from both sides."

"We'd cope," Julian said firmly. "And they'd always have a home in the Federation."

Garak blinked. "What makes you think I'd want any child of mine reared according to Federation dogma?"

"What else would you propose: sending them back to Cardassia? Perhaps Gul Dukat has a spare bedroom he's not using."

The second it was out of his mouth Julian knew he'd said exactly the wrong thing: it was in the way Garak's expression froze, the way he drew his broad shoulders back and hardened his gaze. "And termination is therefore the only reasonable course of action we could follow," he said in a matter-of-fact way that chilled Julian to the bone. "We certainly couldn't raise the child ourselves. It would be quite impossible."

"Would it?" Garak had not, however, let go of his left hand; their fingers were still intimately interlaced. "Plenty of Starfleet officers have families where they're posted. And Commander Sisko is a father himself — I'm sure he'd understand."

"He might, but my superiors would be a very different story."

"I thought you said you're only a simple tailor." He used a teasing tone, but the criticism beneath it was serious, and Garak seemed to accept it as such.

"Let's just say that as a rule, spies aren't encouraged to become pregnant by officers of an enemy government's military. Or so I hear tell."

Julian frowned. "Under the circumstances, couldn't a spy seek asylum?"

"The paperwork would be a nightmare."

"The alternative would be even worse."

"Not if there was never any indication of a kindling in the first place."

For a long moment Julian studied him, but he saw nothing there that suggested any hint of yielding. His heart began to sink. "So," he said at last, almost a whisper, "that's it, then? You've made your decision?"

Garak met his gaze for almost as long again. And sighed. "I have — the only decision I can make under the circumstances. I want it done as quickly as possible."

Julian couldn't seem to swallow the lump in his throat. "I see. There'll have to be some record of the procedure, you know. It's not something I can do on my own couch."

Garak shrugged. "Put it down as anything you like." He withdrew his right hand, breaking the connection between them, and rose from his seat as cooly as if they'd been discussing Bajoran theatre — colder, in fact. Julian couldn't recall ever seeing him look so bloody serene. ""Well — I suppose there's no need for a detailed scan now, is there?"

He managed to shake his head, although he was sure he looked a little ill. "No… no, I don't suppose there is. We'll do a comprehensive pre-op scan just before we —" The words wouldn't form. He looked up at Garak's calm half-smile, letting his pain shine in his eyes. "Garak…. please, if you'd just —"

The tailor held up his left hand. "I've made up my mind. And when you've considered the matter for a little longer, you'll realize that it's the only thing we can reasonably do." 

Julian had to look down, away from Garak's face, that maddening expression of perfect calm.  _He's a murderer — you knew that from the start. Why is it such a surprise that he could extinguish the lives of his own children?_  He didn't know which was worse: the knowledge that he still loved him, even if he wasn't sure he could ever touch him sexually again, or the horrible suspicion that from a practical point of view Garak was exactly correct. 

"I'll schedule the procedure for tomorrow morning." He still couldn't seem to speak much above a whisper, but he made the effort: Cardassian hearing was poor by Human standards. "Come… come by at 0900, and don't eat anything after midnight tonight. We'll need to prep you before the surgery."

He didn't need to see Gark's nod: he knew the man all too well. "Thank you, Doctor." A pause, and he sensed a hand almost touch his right shoulder, but it was withdrawn before contact was made. "Goodnight, and I'm sorry to have put you to the trouble of procuring the scanner." He turned and headed toward the door, leaving the half-unfiinished glass of hiritha milk behind him — and Julian, now staring after him with despair rapidly climbing toward emotional agony. For an instant he thought he saw the slightest hesitation in Garak's step, just before he reached the point of triggering the door.

But the Cardassian walked on, leaving without so much as a glance back, and Julian buried his face in his hands, trying to shut out the darkness that was rapidly descending over his sight.

[TO BE CONTINUED…]


	6. Chapter 6

Walking silently back to his quarters, Garak kept repeating the facts to himself, a relentless mental litany. It was the only thing to be done. No other possibility made even the slightest amount of sense. A man with a more idealistic turn of mind — Julian, for instance  _(oh, the look in his eyes, so stricken and pleading)_  — might have clung to the rarity of the event, or the deep promptings of instinct, or the anguished appeal in the eyes of the secondary sire, as reason enough to consider an option besides immediate termination of the kindling… but Garak was a man of realpolitik, not castles built on a cloud. And above all else, he had his duties to fulfill.

Entering his quarters, Garak did not call for the lights. The darkness was soothing to him, a place of refuge for a creature trained to take advantage of every shadow. He stripped for bed and neatly put away his daytime clothes, then slipped into pajamas of green Midozar silk. Even under a thick blanket he felt chilled: a result of the kindling, no doubt. He'd have a craft more insulating nightclothes to compensate for the —

No. Come this time tomorrow, the eggs would no longer be an issue.

 _My eggs._

He turned over and hugged the blanket to his shoulders, nuzzling into his thin pillow and trying not to think about the warmth of Julian's bed, or the joy he'd seen in the younger man's eyes when he'd laid a slender brown hand to his belly, as if embracing and blessing what lay within.

 _My lovely, precious eggs._

He wanted to curve one hand around the base of his stomach, as Julian had; it seemed a gesture of protection, somehow. But considering that he intended to have them destroyed in the morning it was a gesture he had no right to offer.

 _My…_

 _No._  They were unnatural, inconvenient, dangerous to his health, potentially disastrous to his career — all of those things, and more. Aborting them and proceeding as if they'd never existed was the only rational course of action. 

 _Mine._  An indelible whisper lingered.  _Mine to nurture and to protect. My legacy… my son… my…_

He clutched the blanket closer and shut his eyes more tightly, and willed black sleep to cover him and extinguish all traces of dissent. And after a long time, it finally did.

[TO BE CONTINUED…]


	7. Chapter 7

When Garak walked into the Infirmary at 0900 precisely, Julian was prepared. He was far from ready, but he had all his ducks in a row in a procedural sense. He was already garbed in surgical scarlet, his head as yet unhooded, and when Garak offered him a smile and a courteous "Good morning, Doctor!" he managed a similar, if rather tight, greeting in return in spite of how tense he was feeling in almost every dimension.

It had been a long and restless night, trying to turn his mind from one set of unpleasant thoughts only to have it run headlong into another. He'd barely come to terms with the idea that he'd sired children only to find himself faced with the task of erasing their potential existences — he couldn't escape it, would trust nobody else to operate on Garak's body, and on one level he fully embraced the concept of Garak's autonomy and right to make the decision to terminate… but part of him wouldn't stop crying, a steady keen of anguish, that he'd be aborting  _his own children_  and how was he supposed to come to terms with that? Whether or not they'd be convenient or safe was quite incidental to their potential, the prospect of entire lives yet to be lived. That silent wailing had driven sleep away most of the night, and he'd dragged himself out of bed in the morning by sheer force of grim will. He had a job to do and Garak was depending on him to do it well.

He had told Nurse Jabara as much of the truth as he dared: that Garak had been noticing some abdominal discomfort and a quick scan had revealed that a set of glands in his lower abdomen needed to be evacuated. During the surgery the eggs, having not yet formed shells, would look like alternating layers of clear and cloudy fluid. He calculated that the chance of Jabara recognizing them for what they were as they were being suctioned up and broken apart was extremely low. He only hoped that his own face wouldn't give too much away as he watched what might have become babies in his arms torn from the nurturing body of their prime sire and condemned to a cold unknowing death. 

He returned Garak's smile and directed him to a small side room to change into a patient gown, and firmly pushed his dread and grief to the back of his mind. They had no place here, no more than Garak's calm demeanour, the elegant little bow of the chin he gave before proceeding as instructed.  _Bastard,_  Julian thought vehemently in a brief surge of fury, then pushed that thought away too. This wasn't the time or the place for that conversation either: as angry as Garak might be to later discover that Julian had known terminating the kindling would almost certainly end their romantic and sexual relationship, the prospect of Garak feeling that he had to carry the eggs to term in order to keep his Human lover was even more intolerable to Julian. He could only see an even worse outcome down that road, although losing Garak's intimate company was already terrible enough.

His hands were steady as he finished calibrating the surgical array for Cardassian physiology: all his years of medical training necessarily held good in the face of even the worst emotional anguish. And when the moment came to enter Garak's body they would be equally steady, because he loved his friend and would never do anything to cause him harm — even now, when he'd proven himself capable of asking his lover to destroy their own children, even now, when Julian wasn't sure if what he felt was love or hate, yet was desperately certain that it was still love. When he was finished he left Jabara to lay out the equipment for the procedure and joined Garak in the side chamber, to find the tailor sitting serenely on the edge of the biobed against its far wall with his hands neatly folded in his lap.

It was difficult to look at him, at how utterly unaffected he seemed by what was about to be done, so Julian looked up at the scanner array over the bed instead. "I'll need to perform a comprehensive pre-op scan. Lie back, please."

"Of course." Out of the corner of his eye Julian saw him lie down as instructed, settling himself on the thin mattress with a little shrug of the shoulders that was somehow so  _Garak_ that it momentarily brought a pang to his heart even keener than grief. But his attention was now focussed on the display unit beside the bed's foot, and his concentration was necessarily on what it revealed. Now that the ball was rolling he was able to slip into professionalism like a suit of armour. 

A few taps at the interface brought a flood of data which he combed through effortlessly, pulling out the relevant elements. The patient's heart rate and blood pressure were slightly higher than the baseline provided in Tain's files — 74 bpm when it should have been 62 resting, 145/90 when it should have been 135/78, certainly not enough to contraindicate proceeding with the surgery. Looking at the soft tissues themselves he saw no growths or anomalies other than the ova forming in their uterine bodies: "The eggs have grown 6.78 percent since my scan yesterday. I'm detecting metabolic activity within the blastoderms — they all appear viable. All..." A lump in his throat brieftly threatened to choke him. "All are male." He input further instructions, narrowing the focus of the scan. "No obvious genetic abnormalities — not that I'm an expert on Cardassian/Human hybrid DNA — and no obvious structural anomalies. Left to their own devices, they'd probably develop without complications."

"Did you figure out if the Contratol you received was to blame?" 

Julian's jaw tightened at the spy's deliberate evasiveness, but he answered in an even voice: "My viable sperm count was 1.8 percent when it should have been 0.02 percent. I've already started preparing a recall notice and issuing notifications to everybody who received injections from the same lot." 

"Well, that's unfortunate." His tone was light and conversational, although for an instant, on the word  _unfortunate_ , Julian thought he could detect the slightest ripple of… something, beneath it. "I do hope no other couples have ended up in a situation similar to ours."

 _I doubt any of the fathers in question have ended up having to terminate their own —_  No. He closed the crack in his armour and continued as if it hadn't split open, revealing the hot core of him to the cold winds of necessity. "Hopefully not. You can sit up now."

"Thank you." Garak did so, swinging his legs back over the side of the biobed, and when Julian risked a glance up from his console he saw the Cardassian observing him sidelong, narrowly, almost warily above his otherwise imperturbable expression.

Instinctively he offered reassurance to his patient, if rather curtly: "You'll be fine, Garak. The whole thing will be over in under thirty minutes."

"That's — comforting." The slightest hesitation, something anybody else would have missed. Julian tried not to think about it as he transferred the data from the scans he'd just performed to the surgical suite in the main Infirmary, nodding toward the door as he did so.

"Nurse Jabara should be ready to prep you. Go to the biobed she's standing next to and follow her instructions."

"Thank you, Doctor." He slid down off the bed, started for the door less than ten feet away — and Julian's personal interests assaulted his professional responsibilities in a bull's rush. He turned from the console, opening his mouth to speak again, to ask Garak one more time to reconsider what he was doing, hoping against everything experience had taught him that the Cardassian would change his mind — 

— when Garak stopped just short of triggering the door. 

"No." The word was soft, but spoken in a tone so close to what Julian was feeling that it was almost  _deja vu_. He turned to look at the Human with an expression so eloquent of internal struggle that Julian instinctively took a step forward before he could stop himself. "No," he said more decisively, "I won't. I  _won't_ ," and Julian saw that his hands were shaking as badly they had the previous night, even as he clenched them tightly and finally gave voice to his anguish: "I  _can't!_ "

The naked distress in his eyes brought Julian to him in less than a second. By then Garak's whole body was shivering; he enclosed it in the protective circle of his arms and held fast, feeling the shudder of Garak's breathing against his neck and, after a brief hesitation, the desperate strength of the Cardassian's embrace in return. His heart was crying again, this time in triumph:  _I knew it, I knew you weren't utterly heartless, I knew you couldn't destroy something we've made together, I knew it, I knew —_

But that wasn't what he wanted Garak to hear right now, or what Garak needed. Instead he held him close and bowed his head a little to speak against the ridges running down from Garak's ear.

"You don't have to," he soothed. "Nobody can force you to do anything. It's your choice, no matter what you believe the Cardassian State would want." A tender kiss on the upper ridge, trying to still that relentless trembling. "And whatever you decide, you know I'll be there for you. I love you. I'll stand by you, no matter what."

It was true. He couldn't walk away, no matter what Garak did — that was the simple truth, and had been for a very long time. It would hold good even if Garak swung back to wanting to terminate, no matter how much pain the decision entailed for Julian. And it was the first time he'd spoken the words of love aloud, although he'd said them many times in his heart. It proved effective: Garak stiffened briefly, then relaxed against him with a sharp outrushing breath. 

"You don't know what you're saying," he whispered, sliding his arms further around Julian's slender body and locking them tight. "Foolish boy… you've never known…"

"I know everything I need to know." He was submerged in waves of exultation and tenderness and devotion, letting them fill his voice and his eyes, even though Garak couldn't see them at the moment. "I know that I adore you, and that I'll always protect you — and that we're in this together."

"Protect  _me?_ " A faint disbelieving laugh carved from a trembling breath. "You can barely look after yourself!" 

"I've done pretty well so far." Before he could say more the door opened to admit Jabara, also dressed in surgical scarlet.

"Doctor, we're ready for —" Seeing them standing together embracing, she stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening in shock. Garak's spine stiffened, but Julian continued to hold him, meeting his assistant's gaze steadily over the Cardassian's left neckridge. 

"It's all right," he assured them both, then took hold of Garak's upper arms and drew back enough to look him in the eyes. The certainty there answered his unspoken question. "We're cancelling the procedure. However, I'll need to see both you and Doctor Tongaru in my office in one hour." Garak scowled and started to speak, but Julian overrode him: "We have a special needs patient to discuss."

Jabara had closed her mouth, and now she managed a quick professional nod. "Of course. I'll inform him right away." She could not, however, seem to stop staring. "Will that be all, Doctor?"

"For the moment." He shifted his gaze to her again, projecting his best aura of command. "And I don't want a word about this said to anyone else, is that clear?" He gave her a curt nod, and after a moment she took her leave, glancing back over her shoulder one last time as the doors closed behind her. 

"'Special needs'?" Garak seemed caught between being amused and being appalled, but at least he'd stopped shaking. 

Julian couldn't resist a somewhat giddy smile. "Believe me, you qualify."

The Cardassian took a step back, breaking the moment of naked connection between them, and looked Julian up and down in a bemused way that Julian suspected was an insulating layer laid over the raw emotion he'd revealed just seconds ago. "Should I be honoured, or concerned?"

"You should get dressed again, because you must be freezing in that gown." He gestured back toward the biobed. " _After_  I've done a much more complete examination, however."

Garak grimaced. "Is that really necessary?"

"If you really intend to see this through, yes. We'll need a solid baseline to compare future developments against."

For a moment Garak continued to gaze at him, his expression becoming more serious. "Are  _you_  prepared to see this through?" he asked in a tone of curiosity that would have been gentle if it hadn't been for the hard gleam in his eyes. "Think of your career, and think of how your friends and colleagues will react if you truly intend to proceed without the convenience of lying."

"I intend to tell Commander Sisko as soon as I've finished briefing the medical team I want involved in your case," Julian responded at once. "Beyond that, we'll talk about it and decide who we both feel comfortable with knowing. But for now," and he pointed again, "I'd like you to lie down and —"

The hand on his left cheek surprised him, but the paradoxical quality of Garak's gaze — stern, half-laughing, full of both sexual heat and apparently naked affection — shocked him down to his toes in the best possible way. "You," he murmured with a narrow smile, "are one of the bravest men it's ever been my privilege to meet. Or perhaps one of the most foolish. I haven't quite decided."

"Or maybe I'm both," Julian grinned, and took hold of his elbow to make him obey doctor's orders. There'd be time for questions, and possibly answers he was sure he'd have to work hard to find, later. Right now he had a duty to fulfill, for his unborn children as much as any.

[TO BE CONTINUED…]


	8. Chapter 8

Of course it was nowhere near as simple as merely deciding to go ahead and damn the consequences. The universe didn't work that way, at least not where Elim Garak was concerned.  
  
When he finally dragged himself into Julian's quarters shortly before 1700 he felt as if he'd been tied down and pummelled for hours by swarms of extremely determined mice. There had been times in his career when he'd had to exert himself to the full both physically and mentally, including one occasion where he'd jogged for most of an afternoon in pursuit of his target and had to beat an extremely hasty retreat after the assassination was completed: this felt rather like one of those moments, when he'd reached a safe haven and let himself finally relax the taut predatory readiness that dwelt in every muscle.  
  
And all he'd done today was submit to a series of scans, given some blood and other bodily fluids, sat quietly while Julian lectured Nurse Jabara and Doctor Tongaru about the kindling and the projected course of treatment, waited to be seen by the station's Commander, then talked for a little over an hour. Oh, and had lunch, but that rather paled to insignificance in comparison to the minutes he'd spent in Sisko's company.  
  
He half sat, half collapsed onto the Human's couch, wincing as his middle back protested and hoping that he wasn't about to add  _that_  to his list of troubles, then said aloud: "That went rather well, don't you think?"  
  
Julian, who had followed close behind him and sunk down beside him in much the same attitude, tilted his head to rest against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "I suppose that depends on your definition of 'well'."  
  
"I haven't been thrown off the station."  
  
"True…"  
  
"And you haven't been summarily drummed out of Starfleet."  
  
"Also true."  
  
"Even though Commander Sisko  _was_  rather… what was that phrase you once used, something about giving birth to a litter of small carnivores?"  
  
"Having kittens?"  
  
"That's the one!" He mustered a weak smile of triumph. "Does it apply in this case?"  
  
Julian grimaced, his eyes still closed. "Oh, I'd say the Commander provided you with the defining example of the type."  
  
"Still. He wasn't angry enough to put me on a shuttle to parts unknown or strip you of your rank, so I suppose that's something to be thankful for."  
  
Julian's near hand slid over and wrapped around his, warm and strong. "I've got plenty of things to feel thankful for," he murmured, his faint scowl becoming a smile that Garak found utterly charming; then he opened his soulful hazel eyes and turned them toward him, and Garak felt an absurd little spasm in the vicinity of his heart. "So, why  _did_  you change your mind?"  
  
Oh, the lies he could spin around that particular question! Garak let three or four bud and blossom in his mind before replying: "Oh, any number of reasons…" Seeing the way Julian's warm expression sharpened with exasperation, he reluctantly went to the root. "Primarily instinct, my dear — no," he continued as the look he was receiving turned skeptical, "not political calculation or an awareness of how unique this opportunity is or even the rosy prospect of raising a family and alternating the changing of diapers with you every night for the next couple of years. They're my eggs, and they must be protected at all costs. That's really all there is to it."  
  
"So… my feelings had nothing to do with it?"  
  
Garak squeezed his hand and closed his eyes with a chuckle. "Nor mine, Julian. Nor mine."  
  
"Well," Julian said after a moment, "whatever the case may be, I'm glad." He was smiling again; Garak could hear it in his voice. "And if it's any comfort, I'm used to getting by without a lot of sleep. I spent most of med school in a perpetual haze of exhaustion and I still managed to graduate salutatorian. I'm sure I can successfully juggle a baby and a career, with your help."  
  
"I really shouldn't be telling you this," Garak continued conversationally, "but sleep deprivation training was part of my course of study as well, although I'm sure it was much more deliberately inflicted than it was in your case."  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Some of my instructors were positively sadistic, in the psychiatric sense of the term." A final affectionate tightening of his fingers and he pulled away, rising to his feet and wincing as if his own back was as uncooperative as Garak's was feeling at the moment. "Oh… we'll have to see about transferring your things as soon as possible. Or maybe I should apply for bigger quarters…?"  
  
Now  _that_  made Garak grimace with genuine displeasure. Once Sisko had finished venting his feelings — loudly — the conversation had turned to logistics, and Odo had been contacted and consulted, and between them the Starfleeters and the Chief of Security had decided that Garak would be moving into Julian's quarters for the duration; Garak had felt rather like the virgin bride-to-be in a Hebitian romance, sitting quietly by while the families in question hashed out the details of the marriage contract. He hadn't bothered to protest because he could see from the start that it would have been useless: Julian wanted to keep a constant eye on him in a medical sense, and Sisko and Odo wanted to make the job of keeping tabs on the happy couple easier, because once word of this got out Garak might become a target in all sorts of ways. Both points were valid as far as they went, so Garak had gritted his teeth behind a pleasant smile and accepted the situation with a lot more grace, frankly, than it deserved.  
  
He was determined to continue being gracious. "I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing you any further," he said mildly, trying not to visibly wince at the prospect of arranging the moving of Julian's possessions as well as his own, not to mention the task of setting everything up in a way that would manage to displease each of them least.  
  
"But you have so many clothes," Julian grumbled, then sighed and, with a tiny slump of his shoulders, visibly let the matter go. "Are you hungry? I'm starving."  
  
Garak's mood brightened remarkably at the prospect of food, and he devoutly hoped that the kindling hadn't lowered the bar of his ambitions in life to the grossly physical. "Now that you mention it, yes!" He started to get up, but Julian waved him back.  
  
"No, no, take it easy. Put your feet up. I'll take care of it." And he headed for the replicator, where, to Garak's increasing irritation, he ordered a wide range of dishes, some of them truly outlandish — Tellarian  _zivar_ -hock tartar? Erasian pickled tubers? — and proceeded to arrange them on the dining table, without ever once asking Garak what  _his_  preferences might be.  
  
The last straw was the appearance of another large glass of hiritha milk. "Doctor," he snapped, without leaving the comfort of his seat, "I'm not a child, even though I might be carrying one."  
  
"Four, actually," Julian retorted, setting down the milk on the table and pulling out a chair. Garak took the hint and pushed himself upright, approaching the table in his own small cloud of ill-temper. "And that's why proper nutrition is essential." He continued to hold the chair, waiting to push it under Garak as he sat down like a particularly gallant young man seating his fiance in a fancy restaurant. "But as you can see, I've given you a choice of menu items."  
  
"Well, thank goodness for that! I was beginning to think you expected me to eat all of this."  
  
"Hardly. But I'm very interested to see what your instincts will incline you towards."  
  
The scent of food piqued both Garak's appetite and his curiosity: he surveyed the spread of dishes, drawing a slow deep breath of the mingled odours. "Some of these are rather… unexpected."  
  
Julian took his own seat across the table, smiling with anticipation. "This whole situation is unexpected." He reached for a bowl of mashed potatoes with gravy and nodded at Garak's own empty plate. "Help yourself, in any portion size you like."  
  
"How kind of you to permit me so much freedom," Garak said drily, but he was already zeroing in on the heap of  _zivar_ -hock tartar — bright pink and lemon yellow, marbled with fat and frankly disgusting to contemplate, but he found himself spooning a generous quantity onto his plate before topping it up with green beans in butter sauce, Bajoran  _niakra_  souffle, and plenty of  _uuba_ -root salad. It was a dinner profile straight out of culinary hell, but he only hesitated a moment to contemplate the abomination he had wrought before digging in with a suddenly ravenous appetite.  
  
Julian, still smiling, watched him keenly in between bites of his own dinner, which was much more traditional: potatoes,  _hasparat_ , and a pork cutlet in gravy. "Interesting," he remarked when Garak was halfway through the meal.  
  
"Hm?" He'd been eating with such steady determination that it hadn't even occurred to him to attempt conversation.  
  
"The tartar is particularly high in salt, protein — of course — amino acids, zinc, selenium, and Vitamin K, and the souffle is —"  
  
"Doctor, please!" He stabbed a forkful of salad with unnecessary force. "I can do without a detailed biometric analysis of everything I put into my mouth, thank you."  
  
Julian shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I find your choices absolutely fascinating."  
  
"I'm so pleased that I'm providing you with engaging dinner entertainment," he huffed, but there was no way he could remain angry at that charming face and the glow of affection in those hazel eyes. Julian was just opening his mouth to offer what would doubtless be another witty rejoinder —  
  
— when the door chime sounded. Surprised, they both looked up, then at each other.  
  
"Now who could that be?" Garak wondered, sincerely hoping that it wasn't Commander Sisko stopping by to share some displeasure that he hadn't expressed sufficiently in his office earlier this afternoon.  
  
"I have no idea," Julian said, already rising to answer the door. He wasn't inviting the unexpected visitor to walk right in, and Garak felt absurdly touched at the young Human's protectiveness as he crossed the room, placing himself between his kindled Cardassian lover and whatever waited on the other side.  
  
[TO BE CONTINUED…]


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Julian had reached the door a number of possibilities had flashed through Garak's mind. The chime could indeed herald the arrival of Sisko, come to chew Julian out even further: the Commander certainly had a temper and evidently no compunction about giving it free rein from time to time. He might even have stopped by to inform Julian that he  _was_  being kicked out of Starfleet, or that Garak was indeed banished from the safety of the station — or even both. But Garak's instincts weren't backing up that line of reasoning; after all, as Julian had said, Sisko was a father himself. As angry as he'd been, it was doubtful that he'd be so cruel as to separate two people who were expecting a child. 

Or the chime might be announcing one of Julian's colleagues — Miles O'Brien, perhaps, or the lovely Jadzia Dax — stopping by to see if the rumours were really true. Garak had seen how quickly gossip got around on Deep Space Nine — had, in fact, used the grapevine to his own advantage on occasion — and he wouldn't be surprised to see the Chief's broad and overly honest face gaping in disbelief, or the Lieutenant smiling like a Sphinx. It would be quite amusing to see O'Brien's pale skin turn bright red with outrage at the news that his best friend had knocked up a hated Cardassian…

… or perhaps it would be Major Kira, bursting in to demand to know when Julian had completely lost his mind and started sleeping with the enemy of her people…

… or perhaps it would be a complete stranger, sent to mop up the problem by Garak's own shadowy superiors. That was the least likely prospect of all: as efficient as the Obsidian Order was, even they shouldn't be able to turn around an assassination in mere hours, unless Garak was under much more intensive surveillance than he'd estimated. But he tightened his hold on his knife and fork and braced himself to spring into action, just in case: anyone who _dared_  to threaten his eggs, or the pretty Human who'd planted them there, would quickly learn what innocuous dinner cutlery could do in properly trained hands.

When the door opened, however, it was Odo who was regarding Julian grimly from the other side of it.

"Constable!" Julian blinked at him, his dark brows furrowing.

"Good evening, Doctor," Odo stated — no matter what he was saying, he always sounded like he was speaking through a throat full of ground glass — and nodded past him. "Garak."

"Constable," Garak responded with a polite dip of his chin, while his mind raced. He was at an angle to the doorway that only afforded him a view past Odo's left shoulder, but he could clearly see a female Bajoran security officer standing at attention there.

"I've come to talk to you about security arrangements," Odo continued without further preamble; frankly Garak was amazed that he'd bothered with as many pleasantries as he had. "May we come in?"

"Uh.. yes, yes, of course." Julian stepped aside to admit them, shooting Garak a glance that was difficult to interpret, although it might have meant  _Please, be good!_  Garak smiled at him blandly, lying through his teeth:  _My dear Doctor, I'm always good!_ , when in fact he felt like snapping the head off of anyone who dared to enter their private space.

There turned out to be two officers — one male, one female, one Starfleet and one Bajoran. They immediately took up positions on either side of the doorway, hands clasped behind their backs. Garak noticed that both were wearing phasers. Odo indicated each of them in turn: "This is Ensign Mallory, and this is Ensign Kortan." He turned his attention to Garak, although he was still clearly speaking to Julian: "They'll be assigned to Garak every day until this… situation… has resolved itself, from 1700 to 2530 each evening."

Julian was looking the two very upright guards over with an uncertain smile. "That's very kind of you, Consta —"

"Assigned to me?" Garak piped up, profoundly annoyed at being left out of the conversation — again. "Keeping an eye on me, that's what you mean!"

Odo's cold blue eyes tried to bore into his mind, to dominate and subdue him. "If you prefer, yes. Commander's orders — and mine."

"And what if I refuse to be watched every hour of the day and night? That's what you're proposing, isn't it?"

The Changeling nodded. "The officers on the other shifts will introduce themselves as they come on duty."

"There'll be no need for that," Garak said heatedly, "because there won't  _be_  any other shifts!" He heard the anger and dismay in his voice but didn't particularly care. 

Evidently neither did Odo. "I'm not  _asking_  you if you'd like a guard, I'm  _telling_  you that you're getting one. Commander Sisko —"

"— is not my father, and has no right to treat me like an errant child!"

Julian, who had been watching the exchange with the anxious expression of a man observing a tennis match played with live grenades, stepped in to help — or try to. "Garak, I'm sure that there's a good reason for —"

"And  _you_ ," Garak hissed, rounding on him with teeth-baring savagery, "monitoring my every move, telling me what I can eat and drink —"

"I've done no such thing," Julian said in a soothing tone that just made Garak feel even more like biting him, and not in a good way. 

"Of course you haven't," Garak said with enough sarcasm to strip the protective paint off a starship hull. "You're just doing your job — which, in typical Federation style, amounts to meddling in things that are no concern of —"

" _Gentlemen,_ " Odo growled, in a way that clearly said:  _I expect you to act like it._

"— of yours," Garak finished rebelliously, then shut his mouth and bit his tongue, remembering his earlier conclusion that fighting the process that telling Sisko had set in motion would be ultimately pointless. 

"Garak." Julian took another step toward him, his brown eyes so damned  _kind_  that Garak felt both ashamed and appalled at his own loss of control. "Let's hear Odo out. I'm sure he only has your best interests in mind."

"I have station security in mind," Odo corrected him, "and there's always been a certain amount of hostility directed at Garak. He is, after all, a Cardassian, and I expect that once news gets around that he's carrying the children of the Chief Medical Officer the danger to him will only increase." Another nod at Mallory and Kortan, who were looking a little uncomfortable now under their professional demeanour. "If I can prevent an outbreak of violence by a conspicuous display of protection, it's to the advantage of all concerned."

"Except me," Garak pointed out in as non-sulky a tone as he could manage," who'll have two deputies flanking me everywhere I go. That will only draw more attention to me, surely!"

Odo cocked his head in a gesture telegraphing annoyance. "That's the point: I want anyone considering causing you grievous bodily harm to think twice about even attempting it."

"Believe me," Garak said earnestly, "anyone who takes any aggressive action against me under these circumstances won't be in any condition to try a second time."

Odo folded his arms, looking suspicious. "Because you'll be protecting your eggs."

Garak smiled, infusing it with deadly intent. "Even a tailor has to draw the line somewhere."

"Well, then, let me make something perfectly clear." He unfolded his arms and took a step toward Garak, fixing him with look calculated to make the guilty flinch and quail. "If you commit assault on anyone, no matter what the 'circumstances', you'll have to answer to me  _and_  to Commander Sisko."

Garak had plenty to be guilty about, but he'd never been one whose conscience was particularly sensitive to coercion. "Even in self-defence?"

Julian stepped forward again. "Odo, he's been exhibiting changes in mood and behaviour that I believe are related to the kindling. He might be incapable of acting in what you or I would call a 'rational' manner if he feels the eggs are threatened."

"Well then," Odo said, "all the more reason to make sure that the situation never arises in the first place." He was still gazing into Garak's eyes with unblinking intensity. "If someone is foolish enough to attack you, let my officers handle it."

"If I can," Garak allowed, really promising nothing. He offered the Changeling another smile full of barely veiled malice. "But really, Constable… I'm only a simple tailor! How much damage could I do?"

Odo snorted, a sharp harsh sound, and turned to go, granting Julian a brisk nod. He hadn't gone three steps before Garak spoke again: "Oh, and Constable…?"

Odo's shoulders stiffened even more. He turned, and Garak shifted the quality of his smile to something more conciliatory. "Could the guards at least keep watch outside our quarters? We'd like to maintain a little privacy if we can, wouldn't we, love?"

Julian had the good sense to keep his mouth shut in spite of Garak's syrupy-sweet tone, although he did nod when Odo glanced in his direction. 

"All right," Odo conceded after a couple of beats, and performed a little jerking gesture with his chin that his officers evidently recognized, because they hastened to move out into the corridor, followed by their Chief. The final look that Odo directed at Garak as the door was closing reminded Garak of a cat that's been soaked with a well-timed bucket of water, and his mood took a sudden upward turn.

"You know," he quipped as Julian came back to the table, "you might want to reconsider this whole 'living together' idea."

"Oh?" He sat down again, regarding Garak thoughtfully: it wasn't very often, after all, that he saw Garak's teeth come out as blatantly as they had during the conversation just finished. "And why is that?"

"Because I have a feeling that the hormonal situation is only going to get worse."

Julian reached out and laid his hand over Garak's, smiling with that blend of bravery and optimism that Garak found both so highly attractive and so exasperatingly naive. "Then I'll take each day as it comes," he said, "and be grateful for the privilege." He squeezed briefly with his strong dark fingers. "Now eat up — and drink your milk."

Garak wrinkled his nose. "All of it?" he asked plaintively.

"All of it."

"You're awfully cruel for someone so beautiful, you know." He managed to choke down a swallow, then two, then a third, although that was straining his tolerance to its limits.

"I'm awfully in love is what I am, and you'll get used to it."

"My greatest fear, my darling," Garak sighed, turning his attention back to the unlikely yet paradoxically tasty blend of foodstuffs on his plate, "is that you very well may prove to be right about that."

[TO BE CONTINUED…]


End file.
